


Third time lucky

by Maegfen



Category: The Last Ship (TV)
Genre: F/M, I COULDN'T HELP IT, a bit angsty, but ends up overly fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time he kisses her it's a mistake..." - Three kisses between Tom and Rachel. Set way in the future, but spoilers for all of Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third time lucky

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this idea out of my head, so here it is! It's pretty much Tom/Rachel fluff. I don't think this would happen on the show, even if they do get together but that's what fanfic is for right?
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

The first time he kisses her it’s a mistake.

It’s six months since Baltimore, six months since he lost his wife, six months since they lost too many of their number and had to fight their way out of the harbor amongst gun shots, violence and death.

He’s half-drunk on whiskey when she finds him in his cabin. His eyes lock on hers for a split second as she enters and then he’s pressing her against the door, his lips attached to hers in an instant.

It’s passionate, certainly, but Rachel knows deep down, as she tastes the bitter drink on his tongue, that she’s not the one he’s kissing. She spoke to Jed earlier as they played cards in the wardroom; today would have been Darien’s birthday. She’d only gone to check on him, to see if he wanted some friendly company. She hadn’t expected to be pressed against the cool metal of the ship door by the 6’1 man she now happily calls friend.

Eventually he breaks away with a soft bite to her lip and suddenly his eyes focus on her, as if suddenly realizing just who he’s embracing. She’s not sure whether he’d been dreaming, or just wished so hard for his wife’s presence that she made a suitable stand-in; she’ll never know because this should never be mentioned again. His pain and grief is not hers to delve into – she can only provide support and a familiar face.

He’s all apologies then as he backs off however, turning his back on her.

Rachel stands there, initially unsure of what to do. But the man is mourning, and needs a friend, so that’s what she’ll be.

“Captain… Tom,” she says, moving forward and placing her hand on his shoulder. She feels him tense under her touch, the muscles rigid under her fingertips. “It’s ok, I understand.”

He shrugs off her touch and turns to face her. There’s something akin to disgust on his face, but it’s not directed at her, she knows that. No, the Captain is now clearly wallowing in self-loathing; she hates it, there’s no need for him to feel that.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice strangely quiet. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He picks up a nearby glass and he takes another drink of the brown liquid from the tumbler in his hand. Rachel watches, patient, as he swallows.

His face is somber, full of regret and she knows that he’s probably feeling slightly humiliated. He’s a strong man, but even _he_ breaks sometimes. She’s seen it before: when they discovered the cure, when they reunited with the crew on the Nathan James, when they gave Darien and the other fallen members of the crew a memorial service.

He can’t bottle up his emotions all the time, nor can he become dependent on drink as an alternative to actually _dealing_ with his feelings.

She reaches over and takes the bottle from him then, determined to at least help him deal with this tonight. He offers no resistance, and she watches as he slumps down onto the sofa.

“Forgive me,” he utters quietly, eyes not reaching hers, his gaze focused on his hands that are wringing together in between his knees. She wonders if his actions have started to sober him up...

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says simply watching as the relief floods across his face at her words. “You’re still mourning her Tom; it’s ok to be overwhelmed sometimes.”

He doesn’t reply, just rests his head on the back of the sofa and closes his eyes. She places her hand on his shoulder again, hoping that the touch is a reassurance that everything between them is ok; that this incident will just go down in the list of things they just don’t discuss _(she’d kissed him once, an eternity ago, all adrenaline and panic and maybe the influence of too many spy movies as a girl…)_ and their friendship will continue on as before.

She moves over to the small sink in the corner, grabbing another small tumbler as she goes. The water is loud as she turns it on, can see Tom wince slightly at the sound, but she fills the glass nonetheless.

“Get some rest,” she says quietly, placing the glass gently on the table. She hasn’t got any aspirin to hand, but she knows he’ll find some if he needs them. “Doctor’s orders…”

He does look at her then, smiles then nods slightly in acknowledgement. His eyes close again and she briefly worries that he’ll pass out uncomfortably on the sofa. She coughs slightly as a warning, and he moans. Tom cracks open an eyelid and grimaces before moving to lie on his side.

“Good,” she jokes, her voice light. “I’ll see you in the morning? Wardroom at 7?”

“Better make it 0800,” he murmurs, voice thick, traces of sleep edging in as he drifts into unconsciousness. “I might not be pleasant company before then.”

His actions are forgotten, not to be thought about. _This_ is why she came here tonight, to be his friend, to support him as he continues to grieve for the woman he loved and lost. Rachel smiles as she quietly leaves his room and heads towards her own to get some rest.

 

* * *

 

The second time he kisses her he’s barely conscious but she’s just grateful he’s alive...

_24 hours earlier_

She freezes as the call goes out across the ship-wide radio, and she glances up at Doc Rios, terror evident on her face. Two teams had been out today, searching for supplies. The Captain and Tex were amongst them…

“Medical emergency on the flight deck, I repeat, medical emergency on the flight deck. Man down, man down.”

Rios and his team rush through the P-ways towards the deck, Rachel finding the route second nature by now. She’s working as an official part of the ship’s medical staff now, her work on the vaccine mostly complete and only a small part of her job on the Nathan James.

They reach the deck and she immediately locks eyes with Tex, and he stares wide-eyed at her for a couple of seconds before shaking his head minutely. Her stomach drops – _Tom…_

Burk and Danny are crouching by the Captain’s side, and she can see it’s bad - horrific in fact. His right leg is completely covered in blood and the man himself is pale and shaking from blood loss… he’s fading fast and everyone knows it. Rios shouts orders, and they race the Captain back to the ship’s medical room. Rios has his team by his side in an instant; she’s not needed at the moment, would only be a hindrance in there. She feels helpless stood in the doorway, just watching as Tom potentially fades away.

“What happened?” Rachel asks Tex as he appears by her side, his arm reaching out to steady her as she leans against the door. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking.

“Goddamn shrapnel,” he sighs, wiping a weary hand through his hair. There’s blood all over his fingers and there’s no doubt in her mind that it belongs to the man bleeding out in the medical bay. “Bastards had rigged up a little IED warning system.” He gestures towards the man lying prone in front of them, Rios looking down at him as he works on closing the gaping wound – _there’s so much blood…_ “He took a piece right to the leg, into his thigh. Missed the artery but it caused some pretty heavy blood loss.”

He looks at her then, sympathy in his eyes. He knows how she feels about the Captain, holds no grudge; he’s become her best friend over the course of the last year and she has a feeling she’ll need Tex’s support more than ever now, especially if… _especially if the worst was to happen…_

“We did everything we could out there,” he says, his eyes flickering between her and the Captain, his hand slightly squeezing her arm in reassurance.

“I know,” she whispers before she disappears to Doc Rios’ side. He needs another set of hands to hold the IV as he attempts a transfusion; it’s the only way to save him and Rachel can tell the Doctor isn’t entirely confident it’s going to work.

Rachel wonders if anyone has thought to let Jed and the children know. She turns and looks at Tex, who seems to understand immediately.

“I’ll go find them,” is all he says as he leaves, taking one last look at the man that’s slowly dying on the bed.

The next couple of hours go by in a blur, Rachel following instructions purely on instinct, trying her hardest not to think about the fact that it’s _Tom_ who’s losing blood, who’s dying, who’s probably not going to make it…

*~*~*~*

Eventually, miraculously, they stabilize him. He’s unconscious but alive and Rachel lets out a singular sob as she goes to wash her hands in the nearby bathroom. _He’s alive…_

She returns and immediately sits by his side, taking one of the small chairs that are next to the bed. He hasn’t woken up since he arrived on the flight deck and Doc Rios isn’t sure when, or even _if_ the Captain will wake up; he’d lost so much blood and there's a huge risk of infection and, and...

Still, sitting next to him brings her some sort of peace, and she maintains a constant vigil over him, checking constantly that he’s still breathing, that the wound isn’t bleeding - that he’s still alive.

The hours pass slowly and the room is peaceful as she continues to sit by his side. No one has tried to remove her from the cabin, instead content to just accept her presence. Ashley, Sam and Jed have all been mainstays too, the children watching over their father, the older man constantly switching his attention between his son and the woman at his bedside instead. Rachel isn’t sure whether Jed suspects anything is going on between Tom and herself. There isn’t but that isn’t to say there _won't_ in the future. The man clearly doesn’t outright object to the idea though; he’d have dismissed her from the room long ago if he had, especially during the ‘family’ visiting hours.  

Mike passes by every few hours to check on his leader, his friend, before his duty pulls him back to the bridge. Tex calls in more frequently, bringing her tea or something to eat. He doesn’t say much, just squeezes her shoulder gently whenever he comes by.

She thinks over her friendship with the unconscious man beside her. They'd been through so much together: the secrecy of the Arctic, the threat of the Russians, the elation of finding the cure, the terrors of Baltimore. And then had come everything after, as she'd dealt with her actions in Baltimore and he'd dealt with the loss of his wife. She’d never confessed to anyone what had happened the night of Darien’s birthday, but something had shifted between Tom and herself from that moment. They’d been off balance for a couple of weeks afterwards as they put the incident behind them and then, suddenly, everything had been fine. In fact, Rachel realized, they’d probably been even closer than before. If she were to lose him now...

Rachel is half asleep when she feels him shift in the bed. She’s not sure of the time, but knows they’re alone at the moment; Jed had taken the children to go and get some sleep an hour or so ago she thinks...

“Hey,” she hears him mutter, his voice broken and rough.

“Hi,” she whispers, smiling at him. She takes his hand, squeezing his fingers to let him know that he’s not alone.

He’s drifting back into unconsciousness she knows, can tell by the way his eyes can barely stay open. The rest is good for him though; it’ll give his body the time it needs to recover.

“’M I gonna be ok?” The question is quiet, as if he doesn’t want to know the answer. She’s not seen him this scared, this vulnerable, for a long time. It frightens her.

“You’re going to be fine,” she reassures him. “Doc Rios and his team did a great job. You’ll be back on your feet in…”

She stops when she feels the sudden touch of his lips on her hand. He’d raised it to his mouth as she’d spoken and kissed her knuckles, the touch barely there but enough for her to be distracted by it. It’s a gentlemanly gesture she’d expect from Tex, not Tom. She wonders if he’s delirious, but his gaze is focused solely on her when she snaps her eyes to his.

“Thank you,” he whispers quietly before he finally loses consciousness again. She blushes as his hand maintains its tight grip on hers as he sleeps; she doesn’t have the heart to wake him and take it back.

Tex walks in five minutes later and just grins at her when he spots their joined hands.

“Oh shut up,” she mutters at him, rolling her eyes as her friend laughs his way back out of the room, winking at her as he goes.

 

* * *

 

The third time? Well the third time, Rachel thinks, the third time he kisses her is nearly perfect.

It’s late and they’re sharing another cup of tea; a custom that they’d mutually agreed (without discussion) to add to their everyday routine. She likes the peace of his quiet cabin, the familiarity of the drink, the reassuring feeling of his company. She suspects he’s not that keen on tea but drinks it because _she_ enjoys it.

She’s rambling, she knows this, but he always lets her carry on, knows that she needs to let her thought processes continue until they reach their natural end. He jokes sometimes that she’ll miss the next major scientific breakthrough if he ever interrupts her. He normally just sits back on the sofa and watches her pace, occasionally sipping his tea but his focus _always_ on her.

Tonight, however, something is different and she can feel the tension surround her. The door to his room is shut, his children safely tucked in and asleep in the room opposite and suddenly he is standing right in front of her. She forgets, sometimes, just how tall he is, how blue his eyes are, how powerful his body can be. There’s something almost wary in his expression tonight, something unfamiliar that sends a shiver down her spine; he’s not looked at her with that intense gaze before – it’s almost overpowering.

“Rachel,” he whispers, his voice breaking through her rant about a potential new treatment for the common cold, “stop.”

She’s concerned, immediately ready to ask him what’s wrong. She doesn’t get the opportunity though because he says nothing else; just puts down his mug on his desk without tearing his eyes away from her own and cups her face gently, his palms warm against her cheeks. He gives her time to pull away but Rachel knows they’ve been heading to this point for months, since his injury, maybe even before then. They’ve never spoken about it, but there’s something between them, an undefinable pull that causes them to gravitate towards each other. But she’d been recovering from the repercussions of Baltimore and he’d been in mourning and then recovering from almost dying; there had never been a right time to discuss _this_ and it had fallen, regrettably, by the wayside.

That all changes when his lips brush her own.

It's as if a dam has broken and all the tension and near misses have been leading up to this, the feel of his lips against hers. She leans into him, deepening the kiss and his hands drift down her arms to rest on her waist, anchoring her. 

She finds herself with her back against the same door he held her against all those months ago, but this time it _is_ her that he’s kissing and she revels in the feel of Tom pressing himself against her.

This isn’t the drunken kiss of a mourning man; this is different - this is planned and honest and Rachel has never felt like this before.

His hands grip her tightly, as if worried she’ll disappear and her arms curl around his back – a position that immediately brings back memories of Russians and violence and terror. She pushes them from her mind and concentrates on the feel of him. She’d known he was a passionate man, had seen it in their arguments, in his manner and in his words, but to have it all focused on her is a heady feeling.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back and looking down at her. She’s frozen stock still, overcome by the feelings that rush through her. He chuckles then, the low rumble enough to bring her attention back. His hands still rest lightly on her waist, his thumbs gliding over her ribs. The touches sends shivers back down her spine.

“You made me lose my train of thought,” is all she can manage to say; which is faintly ridiculous when she thinks about it.

He laughs again, a smile gracing his lips. Rachel hasn’t seen him this happy in a while; she’s overwhelmed when she thinks it might be partially down to _her_.

“I apologize,” he says, moving forward to brush his lips over hers again. She accepts the gesture, keeping him close and deepening it slightly as he moves to pull away. She’s reluctant to let him go now that she has him.

“I’m sure I’ll find a way to forgive you somehow,” she replies, chuckling herself now and leaning into him again. He takes her hand, entwining their fingers and leads her to the sofa, picking up his cup of tea on the way with his free hand.

They sit side by side and Tom’s arm curls around her shoulder. She feels giddy, like a teenager on a first date, and she leans her head against him, closing her eyes as she wraps a hand around her own half-finished cup of tea. The whole situation is surreal to say the least; 5 minutes ago she was ranting about the common cold and now she’s essentially cuddling with Captain Tom Chandler on his sofa.

They are quiet for a couple of minutes, both of them taking in the change of circumstance; clearly they’re not going to openly discuss it tonight, which is fine with Rachel because she’s not entirely sure where to start with all of this. Still, she feels safe and comfortable and _happy_.

“So,” Tom eventually mutters, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, a smile still on his lips. “You were talking about colds or something?”

Rachel laughs then and nods into his shoulder. She leans up and kisses him softly before continuing her rant. Tom’s fingers stay laced with her as she talks, his other hand sweeping up and down her arm lightly. It’s not distracting, just nice, and Rachel thinks that she’s going to enjoy this change in their evening routine.

He kisses her temple softly as she talks and hums in agreement at something she says. Yes, she’s going to enjoy this very much.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think: comments and kudos make my day :)


End file.
